Just One Kiss
by finnicko-loves-anniec
Summary: One of Finnick's clients has unusual plans for the handsome victor she's admired for so long.


**A/N:** Rated T for mentions of forced prostitution, some disturbing thoughts, and drug use.

**Disclaimer: **Surprise, surprise, I don't own the Hunger Games.

.oOo.

She studied her reflection, pouting her lips to admire their new plumpness. Marcella met her stylist's eyes in the mirror. "I think the eyes could use some work as well," she said. "The wrinkles are starting to show again, and I can't be anything less than perfect for my date tonight."

Her stylist – Coriander, perhaps? It was so hard to keep track these days – nodded and took another syringe out of her bag. Marcella tried to relax as the needle bit her skin again and again, thinking only of the beautiful face that would stare back at her once the woman finished. She dreamed of the way his eyes would light up when he saw her, the small smile that would grace his gorgeous features when he realized that he would spend the evening with her. It would be almost enough to make up for fifty-three years of being loveless.

So lost was she in her daydreams that Marcella did not notice when her stylist withdrew the needle for the final time. "Is there anything else you would like, madam?" the woman asked.

Marcella smiled back at the woman in the glass. A princess, ready for the ball. "No, I'm more than ready."

"Have a nice evening." With a shallow curtsy, the woman disappeared.

Pearls for District Four. A green wig to match his eyes. Surely he would see the love and attention she had put into every detail. She glanced up at the clock. He would be here for her in just a couple of minutes. Marcella pinched her cheeks for a hint of added color and walked to her entryway, eagerly awaiting his arrival.

His stomach roiled as they neared the apartment building. Finnick glanced down at the piece of paper in his hand. "Marcella Swan, Marcella Swan, Marcella Swan," he repeated again and again under his breath. When the car came to a stop, he crumpled the thin slip into a wad and handed it to the Avox driver. "Thank you," he said, and Finnick allowed the building's doorman to lead him to the elevator.

A few notes of her favorite ballad chimed through her house. Marcella's hands shook as she opened the door. She hadn't been this nervous since –

He was even more beautiful in person. The charming, sweet smile that she had practiced that afternoon left her, and instead she stood, knees wobbling, openmouthed, overjoyed just to look at him. Oh, to think he was her date for this evening!

Was she all right? Finnick couldn't risk offending her with the question, but the woman's fast-paced breathing and seeming inability to speak made him worry that she was having some type of attack. He smiled, masking his concern with a grin.

Oh dear, what was she thinking? Marcella straightened. "It's lovely to see you." Her throat was dry, but she couldn't hear any nervousness in her voice. Perhaps he hadn't noticed either.

Good, she wasn't going to die on him. "And you as well, Ms. Swan. Or, since we're going to get to know each other _very _well, might I call you Marcella?" He extended a hand, and when she returned the gesture, he pressed a kiss just below her wrist. Finnick tried not to notice the raised, darkened veins that contrasted with her youthful face.

She felt as though her face would break if she smiled any wider. Marcella turned her hand over, allowing his lips to glide along the length of her hand. She bit down on her lip, attempting to stop a moan from escaping. When he righted himself, she took his hand again. "Let me go fetch my purse from the other room," she said, hurrying off.

Finnick breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulder sagging. He ran a hand over his face, trying to rub away some of the tension he felt there.

Marcella fanned her face with her hands, struggling to control her breathing. The tension between them had been almost unbearable. She had fallen in love with Finnick Odair the instant she spotted him among the crowd at the Reaping. Tonight, he would feel the same emotions that had haunted her for the last six years. Tonight, Finnick would fall for her. She grinned, cat-like and predatory, and grabbed her purse from its cupboard. Marcella tugged her shirt down a bit more and raised her skirt by an inch before returning to the other room.

.oOo.

Finnick had slipped the small, white pill into his first glass of wine; by the time dessert was served, he could already feel its effects. The world took on a golden hue as though the flame from the candle before him now cast its own light through the entire restaurant, and hard edges became soft. He smiled down at the cake before him, for once not thinking of how many laps, pushups, or miles it would take to burn it away. Her joke, though a flat attempt at humor at best, inspired a fit of schoolgirl giggles.

Really, somata made these appointments far more bearable.

Her cheeks burned when he laughed, and Marcella tried to hide her reaction behind her wineglass as she took a long sip. Why had she not done this before? There was a connection here, so strong it must have been visible even to the blind. She'd known for years that she would love him, but Marcella had never suspected her emotions would grow this strong so quickly. The woman set her glass down with a soft _clink _and daringly put forth another joke. It was so rare to find people who thought her funny. This _must _be love.

He couldn't drink another. Finnick longed to down the rest of the bottle, to erase any memories of what this woman would do to him before she touched him, before her mouth and tongue and hands claimed what she had paid for. Just at the thought, he felt bile rising in his throat. But if he ever wanted to see bright green eyes and thick brown hair waiting for him at the train station again, he could not risk displeasing a customer. Finnick grudgingly shook his head at the waiter when the man asked if he'd like another.

Not wanting anything to get in the way of her date, Marcella had already paid for their meals. So, the minute Finnick was finished, she grabbed him by the hand and led him to the limousine. "Thank you for the wonderful time, Finnick," she said once they were nestled together in the back seat. She rested her head on his shoulder, inhaling the faint scent of expensive cologne and red wine that clung to him almost as tightly as she did.

"It was my pleasure. I'm glad you had fun." Lies, all lies, but he couldn't say anything else. The truth was a privilege he'd lost when he won.

Her fingers intertwined with his, and she looked down to admire the sight of his large, golden hand and her small, pink hand together. They made a beautiful couple.

They were almost at her apartment now. His free hand tightened into a fist, his nails almost biting through his skin. _Breathe, Finnick_. One deep breath, then two. Still, his heart continued to race, and he was sure for an instant that he would vomit. He wouldn't, _couldn't_, make a mess in the back of the limousine; far too much was at stake. Finnick swallowed. He wasn't sure if the bitter taste in his mouth was due to his upset stomach or the thought of what was to come.

"Come on, Finn, we're here! Have you been dozing off?"

He forced a smile. "I must just have gotten distracted by a certain lovely lady."

She bit down on her lower lip as she smiled, highlighting its new plumpness. "Come on. Let's go upstairs."

Finnick gestured, a dramatic sweeping motion. "After you, m'lady."

They walked arm in arm to her apartment, where an Avox waited for them with another bottle of wine and two glasses. Marcella watched Finnick out of the corner of her eye, desperately hoping that her new beau appreciated the surprise.

More wine? The woman had to understand that he wouldn't be able to perform after this, didn't she? His worry increased. This couldn't happen. President Snow would not take kindly to any complaints from a client. Still, he sat down next to her and accepted a glass of the red liquid and took a sip.

She had never felt that she could be so open with anyone before. Marcella found her life and dreams spilling out as they worked their way through the bottle. She told him anything and everything. The gossip magazines always said honesty was the way to build a strong relationship.

He listened, silently filing away any information that might someday become useful.

"Oh, dear me, look at the time!" Even this order from a client had to be obeyed. Finnick glanced up at the clock. Two A.M. Curses flashed through his mind. There was still three hours until he could go back to the Training Center. _Please, let it be over soon._

He was going to leave soon; this might be her only chance. Marcella paused for a long moment, thinking. She swallowed before clearing her throat and letting the deepest of truths be known. "Finnick," she began. His green eyes met hers, gentle and questioning. "I think I love you," she whispered. Marcella looked into his eyes, begging for him to admit his feelings as well.

Finnick wanted to run, to push her away, anything to escape this woman. Instead, he lied. It was all he was good for, after all. Lying and sex. "I love you too. I've known it from the moment I saw you."

Tears of happiness ran down her face as their lips met. This was everything she'd ever dreamed, but Marcella knew there was far more to discover. She withdrew, hoping she would see no disappointment in Finnick's features. "I think we should take this slow, really get to know each other first," she said.

_No, just get it over with and let me be done. _"Whatever you're comfortable with is perfect."

"I'll see you again soon?"

He struggled to keep his tender expression. "Of course you will, my love."

She smiled and led him towards the door. "Maybe next week at the same time?"

"That sounds wonderful." He gave her a hug before an Avox woman escorted him out. He kept his perfect composure until he reached the car.

Marcella sighed as she shut the door, leaning against it for several minutes. She thought of their perfect date and the many that would follow. She saw again the excitement in Finnick's face at the thought of seeing her another time. When she closed her eyelids, their kiss replayed over and over again, the feeling of his lips against hers still fresh in her mind. Marcella smiled. For the first time, she truly understood love.

After eight mouthfuls of the strongest mouthwash the Capitol could provide and a long, blisteringly hot shower, Finnick laid down for a nightmare-filled sleep.

.oOo.

**A/N:** Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to know what you thought of it. (Don't worry, I know Marcella is really creepy – I'm not in any way suggesting that this type of relationship is natural/healthy/acceptable/etc.) This chapter was written for the Monthly Oneshot Challenge on Caesar's Palace and using the prompt _beast_.


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